Maybe Memories
by chemxalromance
Summary: The Old Kingdom has been peaceful, save for the problems with the Royal Family. What is the illness that plagues Prince Sameth? When the Wall starts to deteriorate, action must be taken. Throughout it all, Nick remembers. [Slash]
1. Prologue

-Many thanks to my wonderful and evil beta, Sohalia Talitha, for being splendid.

-Nick/Sam. Turn back if you will.

-"Maybe Memories" completely gaffed from the song by The Used.

"_**As we trudged along through the mud,**_

_**we tried to call it home.**_

_**But we weren't alright, not at all;**_

_**not for one second."**_

_-The Used_

_Nicholas Sayre sat on the edge of his bed, biting his lower lip in a futile attempt to keep himself still. He had been up for hours already, and as such was long since finished with his shower. He had dressed casually today, in his favorite green shirt, since classes weren't in session. Somersby was in the midst of exams, and most of his year was busy taking them this morning. Not Nicholas, however. Not Sameth, either. Somehow, Sam had convinced Nick to take the exams early, claiming that they would have more fun before graduation if they got their exams out of the way. Nick agreed, grudgingly, but did think it was for the best. Not that he would ever admit that Sam was right, however._

_At the moment, Nick couldn't admit anything to Sam, as he snored loudly in his four-poster bed. Having quite enough of the chainsaw sound his best friend was producing, he got up and crossed to Sam's bed, flopping on the side in hopes of waking him up._

_Sam didn't budge._

_"Sam," he said quietly, poking him in the shoulder. At the lack of response he tried again, a little louder this time. "Sam. Sam. Sam! Wake up!" Sam opened one eye blearily and grumbled, grabbing his blanket and covering his face and dark hair._

_"Oh, come on, Sam! You can't lie around here all day. I'm _bored_. Get - your - arse - out - of - bed!" Nicholas punctuated his sentence with swift whippings of his pillow, if only to accentuate the severity of his seriousness. Sam fought him off bravely, shielding himself from the worst of the blows before tackling the blonde boy._

_"Nick," Sam said with a wicked glint in his eye, "you are going to pay for that." Nick, being pinned under both brunette and pillow, could only 'oomph' in reply. Sam pushed off him and stood, crossing over to the bathroom that adjoined to the dormitory. Nick sat up and glared at the retreating form, mumbling about things that perhaps even he knew not about. _

_Sam came out of the bathroom looking more awake, at the least. His pyjama pants were well worn; Nick knew they were his favorite pair. He chose to sleep without a shirt normally, as most of the boys did since temperatures in the dormitory were often high. He crossed back over to his bed and fell backwards upon it, comfortably enough to relax but not to fall asleep. Nick sat down near his head, leaning against the backboard._

_"We don't have practice today," Nick moaned woefully, "almost everyone else has exams and everyone who doesn't isn't worth hanging around with." Sam looked up pitifully, but Nicholas knew the feeling wasn't shared. Nick continued despite this. "If you hadn't forced me to take those bloody exams early then we wouldn't be in this mess, you know," Nick said, eyes flashing accusingly. "If we had just taken them with everyone else then we would be busy all day today and be able to relax and celebrate their end with everyone tonight. It's all your fault." He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Sam that might have been alarming to anyone who did not know the difference. _

_"Trust me, it was worth it," said Sameth confidently. After a silent moment he flipped over, propped up on his elbows. "Besides," he said with a smirk, "now you have all the time in the world to admire all that is Prince Sameth." He raised his chin up regally and got up from the bed, still laughing at his own mock-arrogance. _

_Had he turned around on his way, he would have noticed the icy blue eyes that followed his form, and the flushed color that painted Nick's face. _


	2. Chapter 1: We Weren't Alright

A dull ache began in his temples again, and Sameth sighed. They happened nearly daily by now, and so far no cause had been found, nor any cure in sight. He reached up to massage his head underneath the dark curls and closed his eyes. The headaches weren't the worst of it, either. What accompanied it was prolonged blackouts; hours in which Sam could not remember any of the time passed. It frightened him, and he found himself withdrawing more and more into himself as the weeks passed.

It had started after the Destroyer was rebound those two months ago; he was back at the castle with his family and Nicholas, and times were peaceful. The Old Kingdom was lulled into a deep rest, in which no Dead stirred, nor any necromancer dare show his face. The kingdom rejoiced, and flourished. Sabriel spent time apprenticing Lirael, while Touchstone spent most of his days showing Ellimere the ways of the kingdom. Sam had no such important task.

The wind ruffled his curls lightly, and the cool breeze was welcome on his throbbing head. He thought distantly that he should get to his room in case he fainted, but he didn't act on such a thought. Not on a clear day like this. Not when the fresh air felt so good on the skin that had become pale from the lack of sunlight. He opened his eyes to look about on the square below, and leaned his elbows on the balcony banister.

Had he been paying closer attention, he probably would have heard a visitor step onto the balcony with him. As such, he was lost in his musings when a tall blonde man walked quietly up to him.

"Sam," the man said in greeting, and Sam was pulled quickly out of his reverie.

"Nicholas," Sam replied, forcing a smile onto his face. Yes, his headaches troubled Sam, but Nick worried too much as it was. The day was beautiful, and he didn't want to ruin it with another complaint of pain. It was most likely just a backlash of the Great Shiner's binding, he told himself.

Lost in thought once more, Sam almost missed what Nick had been saying.

"…alright? I've been looking for you all day. You haven't been around much lately, and I was just..." Nick trailed off, eyes looking everywhere but at Sam himself. _Well_, Sam thought, _this will be easy_.

"I'm fine, Nick," Sam lied. The ache was getting worse, and Sam could see the edges of his vision beginning to get fuzzy. _Not now_, he thought. _Not when-_

Whatever he thought next was lost in oblivion, as he collapsed forward in faint, just barely caught by the arms of his shocked companion.

---

Sam was awake, and yet his eyes stayed firmly shut. He knew the feeling well, and recognized it as the waking from another blackout. He sighed irritably, and forced his eyes open despite their silent protest against the action. Sitting up slowly, he was met with a firm hand on his shoulder pushing him back down against his pillows. When his vision cleared he saw it was Nicholas, and he let out a breath of relief he didn't realize he'd been holding. The young prince didn't think he could have dealt with Sabriel's worried frown, or Touchstone's furrowed brow. Not now, at the least. Nick's hesitant smile was a sight for sore eyes.

"Time's it?" asked Sam sleepily.

"Just after sunset," Nick replied, "You've been out a few hours."

Sam scowled. Awful headaches. How long could one man take the constant pain, the periods of lost time, the isolation from the world? He closed his eyes, weary of the world and his situation, and spoke to Nick softly, "Thank you for staying with me."

Even with his eyes closed, Sam could see the blush creeping up Nick's neck and settling about his cheeks and ears. It was endearing, and Sam loved being the one to cause the desired effect. He had all but memorized the way it tinted his fair skin, and remembered with a scowl that his own skin was now fairer; the result of weeks spent alone in his dark room. Now Nick had become the tan, handsome one, in a twisted parody of their younger days at Somersby.

"It was nothing," Nick replied in the same tone. "I couldn't just… you fell and I caught you. I brought you up here, but I haven't told anyone. Yet. Would you like me to go tell someone?"

Sam opened his eyes and replied firmly, "No. Don't, please. Just… stay with me? For now? I will tell someone, I will, but now I just want to… sit. Alright?" He looked pleadingly up at the blonde, already knowing the answer he was going to receive.

"Alright," Nick conceded, and Sam gave him the best smile he could muster. The silence stretched, however, and Sam reconsidered his plan for letting the two have time alone.

"Sam, I-" Nick started in a stretched voice, but Sam held up a hand. His mood darkened quickly, and soon the tension between them was almost tangible. Nick's face showed confusion at the interruption, but Sam knew he wouldn't be able to talk about it just yet.

"No, Nick. Just… don't. Maybe I was wrong about this. I think you should go." Sam turned on his side and faced the wall with closed eyes, opening them again only when he heard the loud click of the closing door echo ominously about his room.


	3. Chapter 2: Celebratory Evenings

If any of you are lj users, this fic is also being posted on my (new!) ficj ficlette. Check it out!

P.S. Yay for Sohalia for getting this done so quickly. worships

---

"S'only my third. Fourth. No, no, that's not right, is it? Don't you… don't you worry your pretty-little-head, Sam. Everything is under con- contr- control." Nick could hear the words being spoken, but found it hard to believe that they were coming out of his mouth. After all, he was a near-calculator when it came to counting, so why did his tongue roll off such unsure numbers? His tongue was feeling very thick tonight, as it was. He was mildly worried that he would suffocate if it took over his whole mouth. To be safe, he had kept his mouth hanging open, hence the concerned question raised by Sam.

Sam always could hold more alcohol than him, and Nick resented the fact. Sam, in fact, could drink any one of their mates under the table, with practiced ease. When asked about the fact, Sam would shrug it off with a simple, 'metabolism.'

At the moment, the celebratory evening was going along smoothly, with most of their dormitory mates getting thoroughly drunk with some smuggled brandy, courtesy of Cooke Minor. Various games were being played throughout the dormitory, but for the most part the young men were simply talking and drinking; enjoying their last few days at Somersby before summer began. Next year would be their last, and a bittersweet tension filled the room, clouded mostly by alcoholic haze. Nicholas loved every minute of it, despite the small voice in the back of his mind (who, ironically, sounded alarmingly like Sam) reminding him of what his head would feel like tomorrow morning. Well, he thought mutinously, sod that voice.

He turned to his left to see the aforementioned Sam deep in conversation with Ted Hopkiss, the notoriously flirtatious and disconcertingly handsome boy who was Sam's batting partner. Nicholas leaned against the wall in feigned nonchalance, and listened to their conversation while discreetly watching them out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not sure," Sam had been saying, "I haven't really given much thought to it besides getting home. Once I'm there I'll worry about how to spend my summer. No doubt I'll be visiting Nicholas often, at any rate." Nick smiled to himself, but had to force the grimace to stay below the surface when the conversation continued without further mention of him.

"Hmm," Ted replied, sounding like he wasn't completely listening. "You could always visit me, you know. Or I you. I would love to see the Old Kingdom. What is it like up there?"

Sam shrugged. "It's not like Ancelstierre," he said noncommittally, but it was obvious the subject was closed.

"Well then," Ted continued, in a low voice Nick didn't well appreciate, "we'll just stick to you visiting me then, right Sam? You and I would have loads of fun, you know." Ted had slowly been leaning forward, and touched Sam gently on his forearm. Sam looked up skeptically at his companion, but was distracted when a noise to his right brought his attention.

---

Nick hadn't been paying attention to much else, in his inebriated state, except for the conversation in which he was interloping. He had stopped using his peripheral vision a few minutes prior, opting instead to turn fully to face the two boys; the two boys who were, coincidentally, sitting far too close to be considered comfortable.

Nick had been scowling as Ted had talked, and had somehow come away from his wall to stand upright on his own. When Ted had reached out and touched Sam so intimately, so _invitingly_, Nick stepped backwards in shock.

It turned out that one's balance was slightly off after said person had had a bit to drink, and Nicholas barely realized what was happening when he stepped on a fallen bottle, slipped backwards, and crashed directly into the end table next to the couch.

"Bloody- ow!" he said eloquently, face already burning with embarrassment through his drunken stupor. The boys around him were laughing, but he was too busy worrying about the fact that he had probably just broken every single bone in his body. What helpful mates he had, Nick thought. Not a one had come over to-

A hand was thrust into his view, and his eyes trailed up the arm to the shoulder, to neck, chin, nose… Sam! It was Sam. He always knew he had helpful mates. He took the offered hand gratefully and got to his feet, slightly stumbling on his way, but Sam was there to catch him. Sam looked concerned, and Nick knew what was coming.

"Come on, Nicholas," Sam said with a smile. "Let's get you to bed."

Nick considered briefly refusing, but Sam looked so sincere and the rest of the boys… well they were still _laughing_ at him, so it wasn't much of a choice. Although, to his credit, he did glare daggers at Ted Hopkiss before heading upstairs.

---

Tucked in, somehow clothed in his pyjamas, Nicholas was warm and contentedly drowsy. Sam was sitting at the end of his bed, talking as they normally do most nights. It was comforting, and Nick felt at ease. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, he had surmised later. Even then, he knew it wasn't.

Sam was summing up most of the news of the party – Harry Benlet did what! – when Nick suddenly sat up, looking serious and, for the moment, sober.

"Sam, what were you talking about with Hopkiss?"

Sam looked puzzled. "Nothing really important. Summer plans, mostly. Why?

Nick narrowed his eyes at him, mildly surprised at this welling anger in his chest. "I saw you. You and… and him and… he was…he fancies you, Sam!"

Sam snorted with a laugh. "Don't be silly, Nick. I mean, well, yes, he is known to experiment, but it wasn't like that when I was talking to him. He was being pleasant."

"Pleasant!" Nick cried, "The boy asked you to visit him to 'have fun', Sam. What do you think that means?"

Sam whipped up his head and Nick was momentarily startled. "You were… eavesdropping on me?" he asked accusingly.

"Well, I," Nick started but trailed off. His eyes darted around the room, but as he was tucked in with Sam at the end of his bed he didn't see many means of escape. "I was only looking out for you!" he finished lamely.

Sam looked at him in disbelief.

"Looking out for me? Nick I was having a **conversation** with a **friend**. How does that constitute a compromising situation for me?"

"Because he just wants to use you, Sam! He doesn't care about you at all! Not like I do!"

Sam's mouth gaped, at the same time that Nick quickly covered his own, a bit too late. The last thing Nick remembered of that night was Sam's quickly retreating form, and an anguished yell from his own treacherous mouth.


	4. Chapter 3: An Ill Guest

She was talking, Sam was sure of it. An endless stream of words poured from her mouth, and yet Sam heard nothing. He watched instead. Her tongue moving and flicking against her teeth, the way she pursed her lips in between sentences to prove a point. He was being told, he knew. It was always something wrong, always something that he didn't do as he was supposed to. Ellimere had a way with words. Of course, her way was rendered useless on Sam after so many years of exposure, but she tried it nonetheless.

"…and I'm surprised he hasn't run out of the castle screaming because of you. Honestly, the tension is tangible in this place! I don't know what you two are so worked up about, but I suggest you clear it up. Soon."

He nodded, just barely, to let her know that he was listening. At any rate, it would change her topic from Nick to something more bearable at the moment.

"Mother and Aunt Lirael got an urgent message this morning, but they won't tell me what it's about. I expect we'll be hearing of it soon, though. Settle your little differences with your friend and let's get on with it, shall we?"

With that, and no more, Ellimere stalked away down the hall, as Sam looked on curiously. Strange, it was, how she was the impressive one. She filled a room when she entered it. He dismissed the thought. He never wanted to rule. She was the one born to it.

Sam swiveled and turned in the direction of his father's study, where the king was surely to be found. To no great surprise, Touchstone was found rifling through various papers on his desk, while two guards stood nearby. Sam entered the room cautiously, treading carefully against the plush carpet that muffled his footsteps. Touchstone noticed him instantly, and gave him a warm smile as he gestured towards an open chair. Sam took it.

"Sameth," said Touchstone with a genuine smile. "What can I do for you?"

Sam paused. Why had he come, anyway? It seemed like the thing to do when he finished his conversation with Ellimere. What was it she had said?

"The message. This morning. Ellimere said Mother got a message. What's going on?"

His father frowned and put down the papers he was holding. With a sigh, he stood, making Sameth exceedingly more uncomfortable.

"Come, Sam. We must have a talk with your mother and your aunt Lirael. Things have been put into motion that need to be reversed. I didn't want to bring you into this, but I'm afraid we don't have a choice. Come. They're in your mother's study."

Their voices reached Sam's ears before they even reached the door. The words weren't quite clear, but their tones said all that was needed. Her mother sounded panicky, worried as she did when she found him wandering too far from the castle grounds. Lirael sounded meek, silent as she was as a child. Something was gravely wrong, and Sam's heart suddenly felt very heavy.

His father knocked twice on the slightly ajar door before pushing it fully open. Sabriel and Lirael were sitting opposite each other in leather armchairs, leaning close with frowns marring both of their faces. Sam had an artistic eye, and reveled for the moment in the symmetry of the sisters. The dark mood quickly won over his musings, but that image stayed with him for the rest of his days.

"Touchstone," Sabriel said, rising. "Sameth. Sit down, both of you. We need to talk this over."

Sam took a seat next to Lirael, facing his mother and father. His skin prickled with nervousness in the close circle, and he fidgeted with his fingers as if he was a small child being told to sit still.

"Sam, we all know what is happening, so this is entirely for your benefit. Your sister doesn't know of this yet, nor in fact does anyone, and I'd like to keep it that way." She gave him a pointed look, and continued, "There's trouble again, Sam. Terrible trouble. It may undo all of the hard work your aunt and I have done since the binding of the Destroyer. It may undo all of the work that every Abhorsen has given their lives to.

"The Wall is crumbling, Sameth."

With a gaping mouth, the bewildered son looked to his mother, father, and aunt. All wore the same somber, hopeless face, and he knew he would find no comfort there.

"What do you mean, 'the Wall is crumbling'? It – That can't happen! It's always been there, hasn't it?"

Sabriel shook her head sadly.

"No, Sam, it hasn't. The problem is, we're not quite sure when it was made, or how. We're not even sure why it's failing now, but we've received word from the Perimeter Command this morning. It started with a few small cracks by the main gates, but now they are seeing them everywhere. Entire sections are threatening to fall apart, and the experienced Mages are reporting Charter Marks flaring to life only to fail within seconds. This is terrible news, Sam. You must understand this. No one knows for sure what will happen should the Wall deteriorate, but it would wreak havoc on the dead in that area, not to mention to border itself. We're not even sure what to do…"

Sabriel trailed off, and leaned her head exasperatedly in her hands. Her husband reached over and rubbed her back, whispering soothing words to comfort her. Sam turned to the Abhorsen-in-Waiting to continue the conversation.

"Okay, I understand. This is serious, and something must be done. So, what are we doing about it?"

Lirael's eyes flickered to his parents, but she answered him quickly and patiently.

"This is where you come in, Sam. You are the only known Wallmaker. We think that you will be able to repair it, somehow."

A nervous laugh bubbled in his throat and broke to the surface before he could stop it.

"Me? Rebuild the Wall? It's – I – I wouldn't even know where to begin!"

Sabriel lifted her head again, something to say obviously on her lips.

"Your aunt would be going with you. She would be able to Remember the making if she was closer to the Wall, although she would have to go far into Death to do it."

Sam blinked stupidly. "Alright, say I agree, and Aunt Lirael and I go to the Wall and Remember and all that. We can't very well take an army with us, can we? You said that no one knew – so I'm assuming no one can know. Will it just be her and I?"

This time, it was Touchstone who spoke.

"No, Sam. You would need an extra companion; to guard Lirael in death and in case any emergencies appear. No, you two will not be traveling alone.

"I'm sending Nicholas with you."


	5. Chapter 4: Reservations and Realizations

Nicholas walked morosely through the corridors, ignoring the fact that everyone else seemed to be laughing merrily and enjoying their last few days at school before the summer holidays. He hummed a nameless, melancholy tune and scuffed his feet as he walked. He had spent the morning alone. To be more precise, he had spent the past three days alone. He hadn't spoken with Sam since the night of the party and hadn't been particularly interested in seeking anyone else's company.

How was it, he had mused, that something could change so dramatically between the two of them in a matter of minutes?

He wound his way to a nearby bench and slumped onto it. The window adjacent was open, letting in a warm breeze that ruffled his hair. He fidgeted and picked at his fingernails, as he was prone to do while thinking, and became oblivious to the world around him.

What worried him the most was the nature of their relationship. Only in the most hidden corner of his mind had he ever harbored any thoughts other than a platonic, sturdy friendship with Sam, and now it seems his thoughts could go nowhere but those corners. Would he lose that friendship, now that Sam had an inkling of feelings that were deeper? He also fretted over how much Sam actually knew, and what he had guessed. Nick's almost-confession wasn't exactly a declaration of love, but it was stepping over a line that most boys their age certainly did not cross.

After a few minutes, the skin around Nick's short nails were red and raw and, in some places, slowly seeping blood. Feeling frustrated at his frustration, he got up for another walk around the grounds.

_---_

Ted Hopkiss. Nick narrowed his eyes. What right did he have, existing as he did? It was deplorable. Nick saw him from the opposite end of the courtyard, leaning suggestively over some boy sitting down. The boy's face was hidden by Ted's back, and the block did nothing to appease Nick's curiosity. Feigning nonchalance, he walked slowly and surely closer, angling himself to see just who was Ted's next victim.

As the boy came into a clearer view, Nick was able to distinguish some characteristics. He was tall, with tanned skin and dark, curling brown hair…

"Sam?"

Sam whipped his head up, looking obviously uncomfortable with the situation he was in, and Nick saw something akin to relief in his eyes. Nick only glared at the duo in return.

"Hopkiss," he said through gritted teeth, "do you mind? I'd like to have a word with Sam, here."

Ted turned slowly towards him, and stepped up so closely that Nick could feel the other boy's breath on his face.

"Sure thing, Sayre," he said, his tone hostile, then swiveled to face Sam again.

"We'll talk again later, alright? I'll see you around, Sam."

Sam only nodded; looking absolutely miserable and smaller than any boy his size had a right to be. Nick was torn between continuing to glare at Ted's retreating form or sitting next to Sam. Luckily for him, he chose the latter.

_---_

It was awkward. Five minutes had already passed in uncomfortable silence, in which Sam had looked around dejectedly and Nick had taken again to worrying around his fingernails. He felt as if he could scream, or perhaps suffocate, in the tension around them that was so very stifling. He decided, however, on a more direct approach.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he blurted, looking anywhere but at the subject. "I, well, I have no idea what else to say, actually."

Brilliant. Verbal sugar, really. Such eloquent words, how could anyone resist?

Sam only shrugged, seemingly unfazed by Nick's lack of subtlety.

"'S okay," he mumbled. "I don't really know why we're fighting, anyway."

Sam really needed to work on his lying, Nick thought. He fidgeted when he lied. His cheeks burned, showing up only slightly in a way that Nick was constantly jealous of. Now, he expected, Sam would fall into another sullen silence that he usually adopted when he lied to Nick. The guilt would well up in him until he confessed what he had been untruthful about. It was the same every time.

To his surprise, however, Sam continued talking. "Did you mean it?"

Nick looked puzzled. "What?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Did you mean it when you said you… cared for me? Did you mean it, you know, like that?"

Nick cursed his own fair skin repeatedly in his head. He could already feel the blush creeping up his neck, crawling behind his ears, and settling on his cheeks. They burned with embarrassment, and Nick felt it was time to make a decision. He only hoped it was the right one.

"Yes," he replied truthfully. "I care about you, Sam. More than that idiot Hopkiss ever will."

Sam still looked unsatisfied. "What am I to you, Nick?"

"A friend," Nick said hurriedly, and knew he was trying to take the easy way out. Some emotion flickered on Sam's face, and he wondered why today, of all days, it seemed impossible to lie to his dark haired companion.

"You're a friend to me, Sam. My very best. I wouldn't want to lose what we have for anything."

Sam laughed nervously. "It's only a little fight, Nick. Something we always have. Why would you lose me over it?"

"It's not the fight I was worried about," Nick said, angry at his inability to say what he was thinking.

"Well then, what was it?"

Nick hesitated. What if he was forced to spend his last year at Somersby alone? What if, after Sam realized how Nick really felt, he walked away forever? How would Nick be able to cope then?

"I wouldn't want to lose you if," Nick breathed a slow breath, but kept going as if afraid to stop, "you realized that I wanted you as more than a friend. When I said that I cared about you, Sam, I meant it. In every sense of the word. I'm – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring this on you. I'll understand if you leave now."

Nick kept staring at the same patch of grass in front of him, and grew worried when there was only silence as a reply. Sam had yet to get up and walk away, but he also hadn't said a word since Nick's impromptu speech. Apprehensive at what he might see, Nick slowly dragged his eyes up towards the other boys face.

Without warning, Nick felt Sam's slightly chapped lips against his own, and froze in something akin to shock.

Sam pulled away and put a tentative hand on Nick's cheek, looking with honest brown eyes into uneasy blue ones.

"As if leaving had even crossed my mind."


End file.
